Post-Workout Green Smoothie

May. Hot already. The mosquitoes started early. Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is. I am holding up.

Drove to Baker Saturday morning. MawMaw Shirley was at the stove already. We made gumbo. Thirty-five minutes of roux. The lesson keeps unfolding. Tanya called Sunday. We talked recipes. She asked about my schedule. We do not talk about DeAndre directly. We never do. We talk around it.

Jambalaya. The Robinson Monday tradition. Andouille, chicken, the trinity, rice cooked in the pot. One pan. Fed everyone.

Darius stirred the pot for me Sunday. Thirty-five minutes. He has learned.

DeAndre's birthday came around again. I made his favorite — andouille and chicken in brown gravy. I ate two bowls. I called Aunt Renee. We did not say much. We did not need to. The food was the saying.

Tanya brought a casserole over Wednesday. The Tanya casserole. Half went into the freezer. The other half fed me Wednesday and Thursday. Mama's casseroles are the silent backup of my entire adult life.

Reading something light at night. A novel by a Louisiana writer. The voice was familiar. The voice was home. The book ended on a small kindness. I appreciated that.

Crawfish boil at a friend's place Saturday. Twenty-five pounds. The shells filled three trash bags. Standard Louisiana spring. We sat at the picnic table for four hours. The corn was the best of the boil. The corn always is.

I sent MawMaw a photo of my gumbo Tuesday. She replied, "too light, baby, keep stirring." She has not changed the critique in twelve years. The critique is the love.

Driving past the Scotlandville house Sunday afternoon, the one Daddy rebuilt after the flood. The house is solid. The house is the house. I see the watermark from the flood every time I look at the foundation. We do not paint over it. We let it tell the story.

I drove past the gas station where DeAndre died. I do not stop. I do not avoid it either. The drive past is the drive past. He is twenty-eight in my head. He stays twenty-eight.

I went to the gym Tuesday and Thursday this week. Twenty minutes on the treadmill. Standard. The body is the only equipment I have for the rest of my life and I am trying to maintain it.

MawMaw Shirley's recipe cards in the wooden box on the kitchen counter. I copied another one Saturday morning at her kitchen table. The collection is growing. She watched me copy. She corrected my Cs. She has always corrected my Cs.

Daddy sent me an Amazon receipt accidentally Sunday. He bought a power tool I do not understand. Standard. He texted twenty minutes later, "wrong thread, sorry baby." I told him don't worry about it. He said thank you. The exchange was the exchange.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon with iced tea. The neighbor's kids were playing kickball. The Louisiana evening is its own kind of Sabbath. The cicadas were starting up. The light was the gold-going-blue light of the southern dusk.

Sunday service at Bethany. The choir sang. The pastor preached on Hannah and Samuel. I sat with Tanya and Marcus. The hymn at the end was the one Mama used to hum. I cried into the bulletin. Standard.

Tanya's tomatoes were in this week. She brought a sack. I made a sandwich for lunch every day for four days. Heirloom tomato, white bread, mayo, salt. The summer lunch. The simplest pleasure of summer.

Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is — not gross, not romantic, just human. I went home after Friday lab and made gumbo because the only thing that quiets the body after a day in the lab is the slow stir of a roux.

The gym visits this week were nothing dramatic — twenty minutes on the treadmill, Tuesday and Thursday, like I said I would. But I meant what I wrote: the body is the only equipment I have for the rest of my life, and after a week that held anatomy lab, a drive past that gas station, and two bowls of andouille in brown gravy eaten in honor of someone I miss every single day, I needed something that felt like maintenance — deliberate, simple, and mine. This smoothie is that. Nothing fancy. Just the right fuel after you’ve shown up for yourself.

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 5 min | Servings: 1

Ingredients

1 cup fresh baby spinach
1/2 cup frozen mango chunks
1/2 frozen banana, sliced
1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt
3/4 cup unsweetened almond milk (or milk of choice)
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup (optional)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup ice cubes

Instructions

Layer the blender. Add the almond milk and Greek yogurt to the blender first — liquid on the bottom helps everything blend smoothly.
Add the greens. Place the baby spinach on top of the liquid. This ensures the spinach gets fully incorporated without chunks.
Add the fruit and ice. Layer in the frozen mango, frozen banana slices, and ice cubes.
Blend until smooth. Blend on high for 45—60 seconds, until the smoothie is completely smooth and creamy. Scrape down the sides if needed and blend again for 15 seconds.
Taste and adjust. If you’d like a touch of sweetness, add honey or maple syrup and pulse briefly to combine.
Serve immediately. Pour into a tall glass and drink right away for best texture and nutrition.

Nutrition (per serving)

Post-Workout Green Smoothie — The Body Is the Only Equipment I Have